A Little Princess (by Frances Hodgson Burnett)

(Amazon UK link)

As a child, I had a short book called ‘Sara Crewe’, which I read regularly. It wasn’t until I was in my teens that I learned that the author, Frances Hodgson Burnett, had written a much longer novel called ‘A Little Princess’. I read it then, and don’t recall if I read it again as a young adult. The last time I know I read it was in 2004. 

Since I had a version of this book on my Kindle, and like re-reading children’s classics from time to time, I decided to read ‘A Little Princess’ again over the past few days.  It was first published in 1905 and is set in Victorian England. 

The general story, unsurprisingly, was familiar to me. The wealthy Captain Crewe works in India as a businessman. His wife died some years earlier, but his young daughter Sara has been his constant companion. She’s seven, and quite mature for her years,  having lived so much in adult company. 

But the climate of India was considered dangerous for children. So with much reluctance, Captain Crewe enrols his daughter in a boarding school for girls in London. He orders every extravagance, including a French maid, even though neither he nor Sara much like Miss Minchin, the headmistress. Their parting is poignant, but Sara is quite self-contained and doesn’t allow herself to cry.

Sara is also generous and altruistic, and quickly makes friends with some unlikely people. Her first friend is Ermengarde, a slow and overweight girl who has been spurned by the other girls. Then Sara befriends Becky the scullery maid who has to do all the hardest menial work, with almost no pay and only small amounts of food. She also becomes close to a younger girl called Lottie who cries a lot. 

All goes well, on the whole, for a few years. Sara and her father correspond regularly, and she is a good student who learns quickly and is happy to help others, such as Ermengarde. Sara has a gift for story-telling, using her imagination and verbal skills to bring history alive in a way that was not common in the early 20th century. She is also fluent in French, as  her mother had been French. 

Some of the older girls dislike her, jealous of her wealth and favoured position. Yet Sara is not spoilt despite all the possessions lavished upon her. She responds to jealousy or unpleasant comments from others with a dignity and generosity that is often difficult for her. She tries to live as if she were a princess with the responsibility of being kind, avoiding angry or spiteful remarks. 

Then, on Sara’s 11th birthday, disaster happens out of the blue. It would be a spoiler to say much more. But for the next section of the book she is reduced to the level of a serving maid, despised by the other students, treated appallingly by Miss Minchin. Her internal poise and gentleness are severely challenged, but even in her straitened circumstances she manages, on the whole, to exercise her imagination. She thinks of herself as an imprisoned or exiled princess and does what she can to help others, even when she has so little herself.

It’s a children’s book, so there’s a little of what Sara calls ‘magic’, in the sense of serendipity or circumstances conspiring to make things better. Not that it happens quickly. There are some quite traumatic situations described; not gratuitously, but also not leaving out the cold and dirt of London in winter, or the hunger felt by those with little or no food. 

Despite knowing that things were mostly going to turn out well, I found the last section of the book compulsive reading. The writing is excellent, in my view; typical of the era, with some authorial input, but bringing the young characters to life in such a way that I had tears in my eyes during most of the last chapter.

Although Sara is seven at the start of the book, I wouldn’t recommend this to children of less than about nine or ten. Some of the situations described could be quite disturbing to a younger or sensitive child. Apparently there were several films made of this book, most of which bore little resemblance to the novel. I’m fairly sure I saw one of them at some point, and it rather sanitised Sara’s life, as well as giving an extra (unlikely) happy circumstance at the end.  

I understand, after reading about them, that the only film adaptation that is true to the story is a BBC mini-series made in 1973, which, unfortunately, is not available on DVD. 

Frances Hodgson Burnett is best known for ‘The Secret Garden’, but my favourite of her novels for children is ‘A Little Princess’.

Review copyright 2024 Sue's Book Reviews

Ivy Lane (by Cathy Bramley)

(Amazon UK link)

On the whole I’ve liked the books I have read by Cathy Bramley over the past few years. So when I saw ‘Ivy Lane’ available inexpensively for the Kindle, it was an easy decision to download it. I’m away from home at present, so my Kindle is invaluable. 

Ivy Lane, like many of this author’s books, was apparently written in four separate parts as ebooks. I would have found it a bit frustrating reading just one part at a time, so I always make sure I acquire complete editions. But it’s still presented in four parts: in this book, they were named after the four seasons, beginning with Spring.

Tilly is the main protagonist. When we first meet her, it’s clear that she’s grieving; we don’t learn the details until much later in the book, but it’s quickly clear that she lost her husband James over a year ago. She has decided to move, to start a new life without people who know her. She’s just moved into a new house, and accepts a part-time job as a teacher at the local school.

Then Tilly decides to take on an allotment. She knows nothing about gardening, but she wants to do something different. She hopes it will help her get some fresh air and exercise, and also some fresh vegetables.

Most of the story takes place on the allotment, as she gets to know her neighbouring plot holders, and learns a lot about cultivating land and plants. It could have been a bit overly educational, but it isn’t: the snippets of information are introduced so casually into conversations or Tilly’s thoughts that they feel realistic and interesting. 

Tilly is an active person who’s good at organising. She’s also decided to avoid romance for a while - I didn’t understand why she kept her past such a secret, as she had nothing to be ashamed of. I understood that she didn’t want people feeling sorry for her, or awkward. But I couldn’t quite see why she found it so difficult to say that she was widowed, or the circumstances that caused her tragedy.

However, other than that she’s transparent and a likeable person who is unafraid of hard work. She quickly makes friends with Gemma, the woman who has the other end of her allotment, and who works as a beautician. Gemma has a teenage daughter Mia who appears from time to time, usually grounded, but doesn’t add much to the story. 

There are other folk on the allotment whom Tilly quickly befriends, but I found it quite hard to distinguish some of them. I liked Alf, the oldest person there, who moves slowly but has good advice for everyone. Christine, too, is easily distinguishable: she’s Gemma’s mother, and also the chair of the Ivy Lane committee. She’s very good at persuading - sometimes manipulating - people into helping out at events.  

Then there’s Charlie, a likeable young man, who is divorced. He does a lot to help Tilly and they develop a good friendship which she appreciates very much until it becomes clear that he would like rather more…

An important strand to the story is a TV crew who want to film the allotment for a popular series. They are interested in everyone involved, but particularly Tilly; they record her through several months as she plants and eventually harvest produces, learning a lot as she does. And Tilly is rather attracted to the director, Aidan…

I would not have expected a group of allotment holders to provide so many interesting threads and subplots in a novel, but Cathy Bramley manages it very well. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t always remember who was whom amongst Tilly’s new friends and acquaintances. I liked Tilly and several of the others, and if some of the romantic threads were a bit obvious, it wasn’t a problem. 

The writing is good, but there’s nothing too gripping. So it was easy to dip into the book at random times when I had twenty minutes or so to myself. It’s ideal holiday reading, in my view. It’s not deep, although there are a few poignant moments including one or two unexpected shocks. There’s plenty to hold one’s interest, and a refreshing lack of either expletives or details of bedroom scenes.

I don't think I'd have paid full price for this; the Kindle version is now higher priced, and the link above is to the paperback. But if you can find it on special offer again, or second-hand, I would recommend it, if you like light women’s fiction with an emphasis on gardening. 

Review copyright 2024 Sue's Book Reviews

The Sacred Diary of Adrian Plass, Christian Speaker, aged 45 3/4 (by Adrian Plass)

(Amazon UK link)

I recently re-read Adrian Plass’s original ‘Sacred Diary’ trilogy. I have loved them since I first read them in the early 1990s, and dip into them regularly. I find them funny, poignant and thought-provoking every time. So it was evidently time to re-read the first sequel, ‘The Sacred Diary of Adrian Plass, Christian Speaker, aged 45 ¾’.  I last read this in 2014.

The idea of the book is that the fictional Adrian Plass has decided to resume his diary, charting a few months in the course of his life as a Christian speaker. His first entry is during a sermon at his church, when his mind is wandering. He mentions that he has been invited to several events over the course of the next few months. He’s still working in an office, but many of the events are at weekends, and he has plenty of annual leave to use up. So he hopes to be able to agree to most of them.

Inevitably many of the diary entries focus on Adrian’s family: the fictional Adrian is married to Anne, and they have just one son, Gerald. This book is set eight years after the original ‘Sacred Diary’, so Gerald is now in his mid-twenties. Although we learn that he had moved out, he’s now back in the family home for a few months. Gerald still makes puns and satirical jokes, and he’s started re-writing bits of Scripture for modern audiences, taking more than a little artistic licence to make a point. He’s writing a lot and going for walks on his own, and Adrian is getting a bit concerned about him.

Adrian’s church features too. The pastor, Edwin, is still there, and he’s a wonderful creation. Edwin is full of wisdom and intuition. He loves all his congregation, and knows how to deal with each one, without causing anger or offence. He has a sense of humour too, and a strong sense of his own fallibility. I liked Edwin very much. 

Edwin organises a support group to pray for Adrian as he does his many talks. It’s a bit of a mixed bunch, mostly Adrian’s friends. Leonard Thynn, a strange person who often misunderstands what’s going on, is nonetheless devoted to the Plass family. Richard and Doreen Cook are overly ‘religious’ and appear to be lacking a sense of humour. And there’s a new, rather fluffy lady who keeps offering the same piece of ‘wisdom’, over and over…

I love these books so much. I find them inspiring, encouraging and thought-provoking. They’re also very funny. I laughed aloud more than once, even at events or discussions that I recalled as they came up. Adrian Plass (the real one, who wrote the books about the fictional Adrian keeping a diary) is a very talented writer. He puts his faults and quirks on display in his other books, and, albeit in caricatured form, in the fictional Adrian’s personality in these books. 

I suspect that this book was intended to be a kind of finale to the earlier three books. It has that kind of feeling about it. Several threads are nicely tied up; we learn what Gerald’s future is to hold, and what he has been pondering about so long. We discover, too, what happens to Adrian’s bête noire in his office, Everett Glander. 

As well as that, we get insights into the world of a Christian speaker, both positive and negative - and, I suspect, mostly realistic. We even learn why Leonard Thynn kept borrowing the Plass family cat in the first book...

I’m happy that the author didn’t stop at this, after all. There are two more ‘Sacred Diary’ books written some years later, which I will be rereading over the next few months. But my recollection is that, good though they were, they didn’t live up, quite, to either this one or the original ‘Sacred diary’ trilogy. 

I would definitely recommend this book if you have read the earlier ones. Having said that, if you’re not a Christian and have no experience with the church or Christian meetings, you might find them rather bewildering. If you’re a strict fundamentalist, at the other extreme, you might find them shocking, and think they’re heretical. 

But for the ordinary believer-in-the-pew, who loves God and would like to love other people even if they’re rather annoying, I would recommend this very highly. It stands alone but is definitely best read after the first ‘Sacred Diary’ book, and preferably the other two as well. 

Review copyright 2024 Sue's Book Reviews

Abba's Child (by Brennan Manning)

(Amazon UK link)

I always appreciate the thoughtful books written by the late Brennan Manning. I have acquired many of them over the past couple of decades, and every so often I re-read one of them. Recently I’ve delved into ‘Abba’s Child’, which I last read in 2014. It’s a tad heavy-going in places, so it’s taken me a few weeks but I finished it this morning.

The subtitle is ‘The cry of the heart for intimate belonging’, and that’s really the theme of the book. Manning’s books mostly focus on the passionate love that God has for his people. He talks about how most of us hide behind masks, and that what we show to the world is the ‘impostor’ rather than our true selves.

The first chapter starts with an allegorical story, highlighting the way that many Christians see God. A boy has a prayer answered, and thinks his family are going to be pleased and proud of him. Then he loses what he found, and becomes terrified. Some believers, Manning asserts (maybe most) see themselves as primarily hateful and find it very difficult to understand God’s overwhelming love and grace.

The ‘impostor’ is explained in chapter two, with many examples to balance the somewhat weighty explanations. He gives a quotation from Susan Howatch’s novel ‘Glittering Images’, which shows very clearly how one fictional man did all he could to gain approval of his mentor. He had to hide his thoughts, and turn the conversation around to the other person rather than admit who he was inside, and what sins he had committed. 

It’s easy to relate to the impostor, who wants us to look or behave better than our nature would suggest. Not that we should go around being unkind, but our kindness and altruistic acts should be because we are followers of Jesus, filled with his love, not because we want to gain his approval. And certainly not because we want to be seen doing these things, to get kudos from others around us. Instead we need to accept the imposter within, as part of who we are, and work alongside, as we offer ourselves to God.

Other chapters talk more about God’s love. As a parent and grandparent, I entirely understand the concept of all-encompassing unconditional love that will never let go. Nothing my sons or grandchildren could say or do would stop me loving them, and wanting what is best for them. And my love is just a tiny fraction of how God perceives us. Yet somehow it’s not easy to take that on board, day by day, when we’re feeling angry, or frustrated, or just don’t get things done when we should. God loves us anyway.

There’s a lot more in this book, much to think about and principles to believe in. It’s not that there’s anything new, but as a fallible person I need regular prompts to remember who I am in Christ, and that my actions, thoughts and behaviours don’t make any difference to how much I am loved. Of course it’s not always possible to be our authentic selves with everyone we meet, or we would cause offence or annoyance. But we can be aware of the impostor within, finding a balance between brutal bluntness and insincere charm. 

I only read a few pages each day, as the text is somewhat wordy in places. Sometimes I had to re-read a paragraph as my mind had wandered.  I don’t think it’s a book to read in just a couple of settings anyway as there’s so much in it. It’s important to process each section before moving on to the next.

There are many books on this topic, by a variety of authors, but they give different perspectives. Brennan Manning committed many sins over his life, which he freely acknowledges. Perhaps that's part of what gave him such a wonderful perception of God's unconditional love. 

I will continue to re-read a variety of books on this subject, and hope that gradually the message will get through. 

Definitely recommended.

Review copyright 2024 Sue's Book Reviews

Never too late (by Cathy Kelly)

(Amazon UK link)

I have had quite mixed feelings about the books I have read by the Irish novelist Cathy Kelly. I loved the first three I read, around five years ago: The house on Willow Street, Homecoming and Best of friends. I then read one I didn’t like quite as much. Since then I have read another five, and only liked one of them. The others, I felt, were too wordy and rather trite - a far cry from the excellent stories and characterisation of the first ones I read. 

I wasn’t going to try any more books by this author, but a friend gave me a used copy of ‘Never too late’, and I decided to read it over the past few days. Unfortunately, it’s another one that, in my opinion, is trite and over-long. It’s more than 500 pages and although I kept reading, it didn’t grab me in any way.

I have finally realised that the books I like by Cathy Kelly were all written in the past twelve years or so. The ones I like least were written in the earlier part of the century, or - in the case of this one - the late 1990s. ‘Never too late’ was her third published novel. Evidently it was well received at the time, since she was given a publishing contract and went on to write a large number of other novels. So I may be in the minority in having disliked it. 

There are really four main characters in this book: Evie, her daughter Rosie, Evie’s sister Cara, and Evie’s best friend Olivia. Olivia is the one I liked best; she’s a domestic science teacher, married with a small daughter whom she adores. Unfortunately her husband Stephen is very controlling. He appears narcissistically self-centred in his insistence on telling her exactly what she may and may not do. He even tries to tell her what to wear for social events, and he regularly puts her down, destroying whatever confidence or ideas she might have.

Bizarrely, Olivia still loves Stephen. When she’s offered a TV slot, out of the blue, she doesn’t tell him at first, certain he will disparage her. He is furious when he finds out, but her success has given her the confidence to give him an ultimatum. I’m not convinced that a bit of counselling would actually change someone as appalling as Stephen is portrayed, but Olivia’s story made (in my opinion) the most interesting part of the story.

Rosie is the other person I quite liked. At 17 she’s eager to be treated as an adult, but she has a lot more self-control and self-respect than most of the adults around her. Her older relatives seem to portrayed her as puritanical at times, for not wanting to behave promiscuously and I thought that was a bit sad. She’s kind, and wise, and has more depth than either her mother or her aunt.  

I really didn’t like either Evie or Cara, which is a pity as Evie is the most significant character. She’s the one who is introduced first, but she comes across as shallow, interested only in clothes, and drink, and food. She’s portrayed as being overweight and attractive, but she seems obsessed with her weight. Rosie’s father, we learn early on, was killed in an accident when Rosie was a baby, and Evie is now engaged to Simon. Simon seems a likeable kind of guy, often travelling for work and not very aware of what Evie does in the house. But safe, and secure, and they are clearly good friends. 

However Evie dreams of knights in armour coming to her rescue - there are some weird sections in italics, outlining her daydreams, which are at odds with reality. It’s obvious from early in the book that she’s going to break up with Simon, but I was shocked at how far she took the wedding arrangements before finally doing something about it. I was rooting for him, hoping I was wrong, but Evie is really quite self-centred, though not quite as controlling as Stephen. 

Evie has mood changes, for no apparent reason, and seems to think that love is primarily based on physical attraction. But she doesn’t trust the person she claims to be in love with in the second half of the book. 1990s mass produced romance novels usually included some misunderstandings before the main characters got together. But the misunderstandings in this book don’t even make sense. Evie is intelligent but she doesn’t seem to have any clue about people, and never thinks to ask normal questions when she is concerned. 

Her sister Cara is shadowy, obsessed with drinking and relationships, and she keeps quarrelling with Evie. I never really figured out why, and couldn’t remember whether they were speaking to each other or not - it changes quite rapidly. One of the catalysts for problems is that their father, widowed when Cara was a baby, announces that he’s getting married again. Evie demonstrates her small-mindedness and jealousy early in the book by being very unpleasant to her future stepmother. 

There’s a lot of internal monologue and navel-gazing in addition to Evie’s daydreams, much of which should (in my view) have been edited significantly. Worse, there are at least three detailed sex scenes, each one running over several pages. I managed to skip them easily - I cannot understand why anybody would want to read this kind of thing - but they add to my somewhat low opinion of the book. 

I won’t be keeping this, or reading it again, and wouldn’t recommend it. But it’s been highly rated by others. So if you like this kind of light ‘chick lit’ with very little substance, and want a long book for holiday reading, then it may be worth trying. 

But if you prefer novels with three-dimensional characters and well written storylines, try some of the author’s more recent books which I did like, and do recommend. 

Review copyright 2024 Sue's Book Reviews

Gemma in Love [Goodbye, Gemma] (by Noel Streatfeild)

(Amazon UK link)

As a teenager I read and reread the books by Noel Streatfeild that I borrowed or acquired. I liked them all, but my favourites were the ‘Gemma’ series. These four books feature the talented Robinson family who live in a small town in the UK. Their cousin Gemma comes to live with them and is the catalyst for the singing/dancing group that they set up for charity performances.

The last book in the series was originally published as ‘Goodbye, Gemma’. But my copy had been read so many times that it was falling to pieces. I ordered a replacement second-hand, and received a modern edition; the text is unchanged, as far as I know, but the line drawings are gone and the cover is (in my view) quite unappealing. I last read it in 2015. 

But it’s the story that matters, and once again I was quickly drawn into the delightful Robinson household. Ann has an incredible voice which is just being discovered by the pop industry. But Ann is quite a shy and academic person who hates attention. She loves to sing, but dislikes any kind of stage presence. 

Lydie is a talented dancer who’s also quite self-centred. She loves her family, but her ballet comes first. When she learns that her teacher is going away for a few months, she behaves quite badly. And then she does something which causes enormous stress to her family. She realises she should have let someone know what she was going to do, but still feels that her actions were justified, given her passion and talent. 

Robin is the youngest, a pianist with an excellent voice, but what he loves most is ‘swirling’ folk songs - we never learn exactly what swirling is, but perhaps ‘jazzing up’ would be a rough equivalent. His best friend Nigs is a drummer. Robin is excited about accompanying Ann when she makes her first record. 

Gemma, meanwhile, is asked to play the part of Juliet in the local university production. Some of the university students are unhappy that she is given the role, and there are protests before she’s accepted.  And she develops rather a crush on the young man who’s playing Romeo…

So there are lots of different strands in this book although it’s only a little over 150 pages long. The characterisation is excellent; I often find myself caught up in the emotions of the moment. I could appreciate Lydie’s parents’ anxiety when she vanishes. I could empathise with her frustration when she has to experience some logical consequences of her actions (they call it ‘punishment’ although it’s clearly not revenge; they’re not a family who believe in punishments in general). 

I also found the final chapters very moving and poignant, when Ann has her eyes opened to something she had not thought of. I knew it was coming - I’m very familiar with these books, so there are no surprises as I reread. But that doesn’t matter. I’m already looking forward to re-reading this series yet again in another decade or so.

'Gemma in Love' stands alone, but is best read after the first three books in the series:

• Gemma
• Gemma and Sisters
• Gemma Alone [Gemma the Star]

Definitely recommended for older children and younger teenagers, or of course for adults like me who loved Noel Streatfeild's books when we were younger. 

Review copyright 2024 Sue's Book Reviews

Love and Devotion (by Erica James)

(Amazon UK link)

I decided a few months ago to reread the novels by Erica James which I have acquired over the years. I started with some of her earliest published, and have - roughly - been reading in publication order, although I missed out a couple which I had reread just a few years ago. I have just finished reading ‘Love and Devotion’ which I had not read since 2006.

With this 18-year gap I had entirely forgotten both the plot and the characters. When I started, it felt oddly reminiscent of the novel ‘Stepping Up’ which I read for the first time a couple of weeks ago. A woman with two children asks her sister to be their guardian, should anything happen to her and her husband. The sister agrees, not imagining that she would ever need to take on this role… then tragedy happens.

However although these two novels have a similar starting point, they are very different in style and in the rest of the story. The aunt-guardians are totally different in personality, too. Part of the novel, of course, is the children’s aunts getting to know them better and becoming more confident in their role. But here’s where the similarity ends.

Harriet is the unmarried sister in this book. She is thirty-two, and employed as a computer programmer. She’s analytical, practical, and rather lacking in imagination. She is very close to her sister Felicity, and devastated when she learns what has happened. But she has never considered being a mother, and doesn’t seem to have any maternal feelings. 

However she’s very aware of her duty to her late sister. She can’t possibly have two young children in her flat, so she makes quite a sacrifice after much thought. She leaves her job and her home, moving in with her parents who don’t have the energy to deal with the demands of parenthood. Her parents Bob and Eileen are struggling with their grief in different ways and seem to be drifting apart. It doesn’t help that Eileen has ME and keeps pushing herself too hard.

Meanwhile a forty-something man called Will has moved into the house across the road from Harriet’s parents. He’s a divorced father of two older teenage girls, and he works as an antique salesman. He gave up a high-flying high-paying career as a lawyer after some kind of breakdown, but loves his current job. 

Two other important characters in the book are Miles, who runs the local bookshop, and his brother Dominic who is a typecast gothic narcissist. Dominic, Miles, Felicity and Harriet grew up together, and Harriet thinks of both these young men as honorary brothers. She used to idolise Dominic somewhat, but gradually realised just how nasty he can be. Dominic is both openly gay and proudly promiscuous. 

It’s a character-driven book, with many different subplots woven seamlessly together. I very much liked the scenes involving nine-year-old Carrie and four-year-old Joel. Erica James has a gift for characterisation, and particularly of young children. They both feel three-dimensional, and their conversation and behaviours seem entirely appropriate for their ages, and for children who have suffered the worst kind of bereavement. 

Carrie, at first, is angry and rude. Joel is nervous and anxious, terrified that he’s going to lose more people he loves. Harriet doesn’t really know how to deal with them at first; she’s sympathetic, of course, but quite abrupt. Her slow development of fondness and appreciation for the children is extremely well done.

Another side of the story is the discovery of a shocking secret in Felicity’s past which takes some time to unravel. Harriet is very slow to work out what’s going on - I had guessed quite quickly, but it took her a lot longer, with some misunderstandings and awkwardness along the way. And while it made a good subplot, it’s one of the parts I didn’t like so much. 

In addition, a lot of the characters leap into bed with others with little compunction and no real relationship. Perhaps casual sex is common in some circles; it’s not something I’m at all familiar with, and I found it rather sordid, particularly when there are explicit descriptions of what happens. 

It’s also a bit rambling and navel-gazing in places - the novel could probably have benefitted from some editing. And yet, I found it quite compulsive reading. The main characters are real enough that I cared about them; some places are very poignant, and I did not expect a very distressing event towards the end of the book. 

Overall I thought it a good read, but one I would recommend guardedly, due to the bedroom scenes and so many references to intimate activity. 

Review copyright 2024 Sue's Book Reviews

Matilda (by Roald Dahl)

(Amazon UK link)

Last night, we watched the DVD of the 1996 film adaptation of Roald Dahl’s book ‘Matilda’. Despite it being set in the US rather than the UK, I was pretty sure that it kept fairly closely to the story. Not that it mattered much; the film was excellent. Even for people like us who are several decades older than the intended audience. 

This morning I decided to check a few pages of the book, wondering whether (as in the film) it started with Matilda as a newborn…

The book actually starts with a few pages detailing the way that most parents consider their children to be the most wonderful, talented people in the world even when they are not. It then contrasts this with Mr and Mrs Wormwood, who tolerate their son Michael but think very little of their daughter Matilda. Which, the book states, would be bad enough if she were ordinary. But Matilda is an extraordinary little girl, who taught herself to read at three from the magazines lying around the house...

Once I’d finished the first chapter, naturally I kept going, and read the whole book in a couple of sittings.  It’s about 230 pages but they’re easy to read, with line drawings here and there, and text that’s a bit large than the novels I usually read. The line drawings are by Quentin Blake with his easily recognisable style, and undoubtedly add to the enjoyment of the book. 

Roald Dahl created some extraordinarily appalling characters. Matilda’s parents are bad enough. They care nothing for education, and like to spend their time watching poor quality TV, eating junk food. Her father is a used car salesman who takes pride in cheating his customers, and her mother spends her time on her face and hair, and playing bingo.  

But the star villain of this story is the dreadful, frightening Miss Trunchbull, headmistress of the school where Matilda is sent. She is a former athletic champion, big built and strong, and she hates children. She bullies them, terrorises them, and expects instant obedience. She’s a horrendous caricature of a twisted army major, and while some children would probably find her funny, she might give nightmares to others. 

Happily Matilda’s teacher is the opposite of Miss Trunchbull in almost every way. Miss Honey is quiet, caring, and very interested in her brilliant new pupil. For Matilda reads Charles Dickens for fun, and does complex arithmetic in her head. Miss Honey lives in a small cottage with no real furniture, while Miss Trunchbull is in a large house. 

To add to Matilda’s uniqueness, she discovers that she can manipulate inanimate objects with her mind. This leads to all kinds of trouble before she thinks of a way to solve the problem of Miss Trunchbull and have a happy ending for Miss Honey. 

Dahl’s books aren’t supposed to be taken seriously, and most of them have some dubious ethics even from the ‘good’ characters. This is no exception, not just because of Matilda’s unusual powers, but because she believes she has the right to take revenge: to punish her father or Miss Trunchbull for times they treat her unfairly. And while Matilda’s actions usually lead to amusing results, and nobody had taught her any kind of ethical or moral behaviour anyway, it seemed a bit cold-blooded that she would add up her wrongs and try to pay them back.

But other than that little niggle, I thought it a very enjoyable book despite having seen the film the evening before. Definitely recommended to children of about six or seven who read for themselves, or as a read-aloud.  

Review copyright 2024 Sue's Book Reviews

The Library of Lost and Found (by Phaedra Patrick)

(Amazon UK link)

Two and a half years ago, I read ‘The Curious Charms of Arthur Pepper’ by Phaedra Patrick. I liked it so much that I put another of her books on my wishlist. I was given ‘The Library of Lost and Found’ for my birthday in 2022… and finally picked it up to read a few days ago. 

Martha is the main protagonist of this novel. She’s in her forties, and volunteers at the local library. She’s a likeable person with almost no self esteem, and measures her value by the things she does for other people. She gave up a future with her fiance nearly two decades earlier, to care for her ageing and sick parents. She now lives in what was their house, and plans to sort out their stuff…one day.

Meanwhile Martha has a long checklist of jobs she has agreed to do for other people. She hems trousers for her sister, she does laundry for a neighbour whose washing machine has broken down. She has promised to mend a broken dragon mask for the local school, she has offered to clean some  and she has to organise almost every event that takes place at the library.

We meet her when she’s on her way to a celebrity event for which she has worked hard, only to discover that it’s cancelled. And nobody let her know. She tries not to be resentful, but it’s quickly clear that she’s taken for granted by many of her neighbours. Everyone assumes she will do whatever she is asked, because she doesn’t have a husband or family, and has plenty of time.

Then she discovers a book, with no front cover. Inside, to her astonishment, is a dedication to herself, from her grandmother Zelda. But the date of the dedication is 1984, and her grandmother died in 1982. Martha is puzzled and disturbed, but when she calls her sister to discuss it, her sister tries to fob her off, telling her she shouldn’t worry about the past or try to investigate.

The bulk of the book follows Martha as she begins to take action for herself. Her parents were quite controlling, and she ‘hears’ her father telling her to do - or not to do - things all the time. He used to make judgements about everything, and was very scathing about fiction. Martha used to love fairy stories and wrote some short stories herself, often in conjunction with her grandmother. But her father disapproved strongly. 

The novel is cleverly plotted, moving forwards in time as Martha begins to do some research, with a few flashbacks. These neatly fill in some details with brief scenes in Martha’s memory, or what she learns in conversation with others. There aren’t any great surprises; I had guessed most of what transpired, including the revelations at the end when Martha learns some secrets from her sister. 

But it doesn’t matter. This is a character-driven novel, and what I loved about it was the gradual unfolding of Martha’s personality as she learns about herself, and her family. I don’t have an unhappy background at all, and am not as generous or altruistic as Martha. But I could very much empathise with a lot of her character: she’s nervous about taking proactive steps, doesn’t like phoning people out of the blue, and feels that her own wishes are less important than those of people around her. She’s caught in a vicious cycle of chaos, not looking after herself at all, and yet finding little motivation to get on with the many tasks she has agreed to do.

A bonus in the novel is a sprinkling of short stories, some of them supposedly written by Martha, and some by Zelda. Each one is brief, but gives an analogy or references to something going on in Martha’s life.

Once I had started, I found the book quite difficult to put down. I thought it very well-written, and with an encouraging (if somewhat bittersweet) ending. Definitely recommended. 

 

  Review copyright 2024 Sue's Book Reviews

The Naughtiest Girl Again (by Enid Blyton)

(Amazon UK link)

Having re-read ‘The Naughtiest Girl in the School’ by Enid Blyton about six weeks ago, it was inevitable that I would want to re-read the first sequel, ‘The Naughtiest Girl Again’. I hadn’t read this book for probably thirty years or more. The notes in my very elderly paperback suggest that I read it many times as a child and young teenager; I may have dipped into it again as an adult, or read it aloud to my sons when they were little. But I have no record of that.

The story covers Elizabeth Allen’s second term at Whyteleafe boarding school. In the first book, she hated the thought of going to school and was determined to be as naughty as possible. In this book, she’s decided she will behave well, and try to avoid losing her temper. Elizabeth is a bright girl who likes lessons, and also takes part in many extra-curricular activities such as piano and gardening. 

There are three new children in Elizabeth’s class. Jenny is bright and friendly, and has a gift of mimicry so she is quickly liked and becomes quite popular. Robert and Kathleen, however, both seem dour and unfriendly. Robert, as is quickly apparent, is something of a bully and Kathleen, who is pale and spotty, wants to argue with everyone and won’t share her sweets. Elizabeth tries to be fair to them both, remembering how she was so unpleasant just a few months earlier. But then she loses her temper…

Whyteleafe is an unusual school, particularly for the era in which this was written; this book was first published in 1940. It’s a highly progressive school, governed by a council of elected monitors and two head students. It’s a school for boys and girls, which was also not normal for boarding schools in the 1940s. The two school heads, Miss Belle and Miss Best, always attend the school weekly ‘meetings’ but don’t interfere or even comment unless asked. 

There are ethical issues that are covered, in this (as with most of Blyton’s school stories) in a way that doesn’t seem too preachy or moralistic. Elizabeth is reminded to think before she passes judgement, and also before she makes decisions that older and wiser people might have done differently. A little psychology is invoked, as bullies and insecure people are taught to look at the reasons behind their behaviour and feelings. And much is made of the value of courage, as well as of kindness, and thoughtfulness and generosity.

I loved these books as a child and was pleased to find that I liked re-reading it in my sixties. Indeed, at times I could hardly put it down. I’m also pleased to see that they are regularly reprinted, though I’m not enamoured with the cartoon-style covers of the modern editions. But it’s good to see that they can be appreciated by today’s generation, eighty years after the books were first written. I am delighted that my seven-year-old granddaughter has started reading them, and likes them too. 

I can see, of course, that the writing isn’t the best, and that the solutions to problems (or reasons for bad behaviour) are rather too simplistic. But that doesn’t much matter. Children can appreciate the stories, and the humour, and the character changes that occur in a more general way. And the incidents can lead to good discussion about (for instance) bullying, or the importance of honesty. 

Most people my age who love to read grew up with Enid Blyton, at a time when there weren’t too many other interesting or exciting books suitable for children. There’s a huge variety available now, but the ‘Naughtiest Girl’ series has stood the test of time and I would recommend it to anyone, boys or girls, of about seven and upwards who are fluent readers.

They also make good read-alouds.

Review copyright 2024 Sue's Book Reviews

No Wind of Blame (by Georgette Heyer)

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In my gradual re-reading of Georgette Heyer’s mid-20th century crime novels, I reached ‘No Wind of Blame’, which I first read in 2018. I had almost no memory of the book or any of the characters, other than a faint memory of how the crime was committed. 

The book is mainly set in a stately home owned by a flamboyant and very wealthy woman called Ermyntrude. She was widowed some years earlier, and then remarried the impoverished Wally Carter, who appears to have very few redeeming qualities. However he is apparently irresistible to many women, despite being a spendthrift, and regularly drunk. 

Wally has a cousin who is also his ward, Mary Cliffe. She’s one of the central characters, full of common sense and diplomacy. She's one of the few people who feels entirely real without any exaggeration or caricature. Mary is quite a contrast to Ermyntrude’s daughter Vicky, who sees life as a series of vignettes. Vicky constantly sees herself as acting a part. She regularly dresses and behaves in different parts of a play that is going on in her mind. She’s sometimes quite amusing, but Mary mostly finds her annoyingly trite and somewhat naive. 

There are others, too: the Georgian Prince who has come to stay; the local doctor; a squire and his son Hugh who is quite attracted to Mary. But she finds him rather too frivolous. There are less likeable folk as well, such as a belligerent young man who wants Wally to take responsibility for seducing his sister, or so he claims; a rather encroaching close neighbour who pops in far more frequently than Ermyntrude likes.  

So there are a lot of people in this novel, and quite a few different subplots running alongside each other, confusing the local police when a crime is committed - and it doesn’t happen until nearly half-way through the book. Nobody is all that upset about the loss of the character who is shot, but everyone tells either half-truths or downright lies in their attempts to cover up what they think they might know. 

Yet Heyer’s characterisation is such that almost all the people in the book stand out, and I didn’t find the large cast-list at all confusing. There’s low-key humour here and there, and I was pleased when Scotland Yard is called in, as Inspector Hemmingway is the person on the scene. He has appeared in several of the earlier crime fiction books, but usually as a sidekick of Superintendent Hannasyde. In this novel, Hannasyde only appears at the end of the phone; it’s Hemmingway who interviews the suspects and others in the household and neighbourhood. And I love the way his mind works. 

The viewpoint changes quite rapidly in this novel, but whereas that can make writing seem awkward, it works well in this novel. We learn just enough from each person’s point of view to know how they’re feeling, but not whether they are or are not guilty; we don’t even learn who might know of the perpetrator. 

Despite my vague memory of how the crime was committed, I had forgotten the details. It seems increasingly difficult to see just how it happened, and who might have done it, as more and more information comes to light. Even when I was fairly sure, I was puzzled by the motivation; yet that’s something that I should have been able to work out, based on a few casual remarks earlier in the novel.

I don’t like Heyer’s crime fiction as much as I like some of her historical romances, but I thought this was well-written, cleverly plotted and with memorable characters even if some of them were rather over-dramatic and caricatured. ‘No wind of blame’ was first published in 1939 but the personalities feel vibrant and modern, and I’m glad to see that these books are regularly re-published as well as being fairly widely available second-hand. 

Recommended if you like this kind of light crime fiction.  

Review copyright 2024 Sue's Book Reviews